


Oh, Jealousy

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Secret Crush, anger issues, mentioned Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:54:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21677476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: The first time he sees Tim coming out of his room, more than a little rumpled, with an objectively cute boy, he feels something flare inside him and it honestly panics him. He feels angry. Angry and fuzzy in a way that he’s all but trained out of himself over the years. His hands shake until he has to ball them up into fists and that only serves to make him want to punch the guy.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 352
Collections: Tim Drake, TimDami Week





	Oh, Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> For TimDamiWeek First Time/Secret Crush/Caught/Jealousy.  
Did one for a lot b/c I'm writing a novel right now, but still wanted to participate in one of my favorite weeks!

It isn’t that Damian doesn’t _know_ some of the things Tim gets up to. After all, he’s been watching him for years. It’s more that he doesn’t quite get the full breadth of it until he’s smacked in the face with it. Repeatedly.

He thought he understood what Tim meant when he said the word pansexual - yes he was aware it had nothing to do with pans, as Tim was so quick to defend in the face of certain people’s teasing - and he thought he knew what all that would entail. Well, technically speaking, he _did_ understand. It’s just that, non-technically speaking, it’s way more to see it than it was to imagine it.

The first time he sees Tim coming out of his room, more than a little rumpled, with an objectively cute boy, he feels something flare inside him and it honestly panics him. He feels angry. Angry and fuzzy in a way that he’s all but trained out of himself over the years. His hands shake until he has to ball them up into fists and that only serves to make him want to punch the guy. 

It leaves him hollow, gutted and upset with himself. He’s not an asshole and definitely not a bigot, so he doesn’t understand how he’s so angry over something that should be perfectly okay. Tim’s allowed to have sex with a guy he’s never seen before. If Tim wants to use that dating app he put on his phone for hookups, he’s allowed. He’s twenty one and that’s a thing twenty one year olds do. Or at least Damian assumes it is. Either way, it shouldn’t even be his business and he definiely shouldn’t be so upset by it that he wants to punch something into a fine powder.

The whole thing makes him take a step back and reevaluate himself. He takes weeks thinking about it, testing himself by putting himself in situations to see two men or two women together in every context. He goes to the gay clubs and sits and watches - and feels suitably creepy to be what he is, a bat, a watcher… a voyeur. When it comes to seeing these people in the context of sex, he’s honest with himself, he hangs around the places he’ll get a show with his watching and that only adds up if he’s a voyeur, so he owns the title and moves on. 

What he doesn’t understand is why he’s not angry here. None of the interactions spark him with such anger his hands shake and such hatred he wishes he hadn’t given up some of the ideals his mother had instilled in him. He’s happy he’s not some sort of closeted bigot, but he’s also beyond confused. 

His confusion leads him to watching Tim closer. He does all the things he once admonished his father for doing and he creeps on Tim’s search history, watches the videos he watches, reads the emails he sends. He taps into his phone and watches the texts and sees who Tim swipes right on and who he doesn’t. It’s cold and clinical and even watching things that would make him hard otherwise does nothing while he takes in all the possible data points. This is research, not voyeurism. He thinks he understands his father a little more now.

It takes months before he’s presented with the opportunity to test himself again. He watches Tim on a date with a girl. She’s prim and proper and Damian privately thinks she’s far too boring for Tim, but he’ll let him figure it out himself. Tim seems to like dangerous, to a certain degree. He’s rooted in the video archives and he’s seen Tim’s past choices. The ones that made him happiest are not the ones he seems to think when he’s trying to choose again. Damian thinks he knows Tim’s type. Well, his types, if he’s being honest. There’s a certain degree of dangerous and then there’s this, the thing he _thinks_ he wants, but doesn’t really. The proof will be in the evening, of that Damian is certain.

Hours pass and while Tim’s making a valiant effort at all things with this girl, it’s just not going well. She’s dull, her responses are canned, and they share basically zero interests outside of her chatter about superheroes and well… that’s a can of worms Tim’s been skirting all night. It makes Damian blanch. It makes him want to get caught to watch the explosion that’s sure to be the situation if he does it. 

He doesn’t give himself away, instead he just waits.

They go back to her place and Tim gives her a chaste hug, avoiding the kiss and declining the coffee invitation that’s clearly code for ‘fuck me please’ and well… Damian’s skin doesn’t itch like it’s on fire and he doesn’t want to punch anything. He thinks he needs more sample data to figure out what happened that first night.

So he digs up everything he can find on Mr. Hookup. He pulls every record the guy’s got and he’s achingly squeaky clean except some comments about how he dresses on his school report cards and parent/teacher notes. That’s all in the noise; teachers never understand kids clothing choices when they’re allowed outside of uniform, it’s just a given.

It wasn’t the guy himself that gave Damian those upset feelings, which narrows it down some, but still leaves him feeling like he’s got some kind of internalized homophobia somewhere and that hurts. It really fucking hurts, because he’s never been like that. He’s never thrown someone’s sexuality at them as a way to hurt, he’s never blanched away from displays of affection, he was fine at the gay club, and really, honestly, he’s watched gay porn and he’s been… well… turned on. More importantly, he wasn’t angry about it when he was. In fact, he’s had more than a passing interest in watching Jon disrobe for years and he’s been fine in that, too. Of course, Jon’s straight, so never happening, but he could squint real hard and imagine it. So it leaves him feeling empty and hurt and alone that he got so angry over Tim and this guy. It doesn’t make logical sense and if it’s not logical, it’s not worth shit, in his opinion, but… whatever it is, it’s still there.

The next time Tim sets up for a hookup with a guy, Damian creeps on him again, following him to the guy’s apartment and setting himself up on the roof overlooking the bay windows. He sits and watches and the instant Tim drops his ass down on the guy’s lap, Damian’s insides light up like the Fourth of July and his hands shake and his mind goes hazy with rage. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and begs to understand himself, to figure out these reactions. It’s unfair. He _isn’t_ the asshole this is all making him out to be, he really isn’t. He’s okay with Tim being with a guy but it’s still setting him off like this and he has no idea why. He huddles on the roof across the street and curls into a little ball in the darkness and pointedly doesn’t watch Tim having sex with the guy. If his cheeks are blotchy and his eyes red by the time he peels himself up to go home, well, he doesn’t understand why for that either.

Later, he tries to imagine Tim with someone faceless while he’s watching some of his own stash of pornographic videos. He feels hot and cold and trembly and his heart races far too fast and when he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his mind go where it wants, it’s with a vivid image of _him_ helping Tim satisfy his needs painted behind his eyelids. He comes apart all over himself and sits there in shock for far too long in his own cooling mess.

It’s then that he understands what the word jealousy means. He’s jealous it’s not him taking Tim apart. Only jealous of the men because it shows he stands a chance. He’s not a homophobe and that’s such a great relief, he doesn’t even try to stop the way he stumbles through the next two days, living on the other side of such high strung tension that it drains the life out of him. It’s the life version of a deflated balloon, all the stretch and air gone, just the tension-relieved latex hanging there, waiting on the next round to come.

He makes his decision on a Tuesday and he creates an account on the stupid app Tim is using for hookups and then goes on the hunt. He tries every way under the sun to make it give up Tim’s profile so he can swipe right on him and see and it takes him _weeks_ before it works. When Tim’s face finally pops up on the app, his hands shake and his pants get far too tight and he swipes right with his breath held and he waits. He stalks Tim’s phone and waits on him to open the app and like clockwork, a few weeks go by and he finally does and it starts showing him all the people who’ve swiped right on him and he watches as Tim idly passes up on so many guys it has Damian’s blood boiling before Tim gets to him and he opens his app and he waits, flicking his eyes between his screen and Tim’s duplicated screen on his desktop. Tim _has_ to. If he doesn’t, Damian doesn’t know what he’ll do. He feels wild with it, anxious and unhinged and god, this is why he’s avoiding this whole dating thing - or really the whole sex thing entirely - for so long. He’s never wanted to feel this out of control of himself before and he’s trembling with it now that he is.

He misses it when Tim swipes, but the soft ping on his phone tells him Tim swiped right and nothing in the entire world can stop him now. He closes out of Tim’s stuff, hides it all away, shoves his phone in his pocket and makes the trek to Tim’s room a few doors down.

He’s not there, presently at his apartment and Damian deflates just a little. But not for long. He picks his mood back up and gathers his coat and shoes and keys to the one car he’s allowed to drive and he doesn’t even say where he’s going before he’s racing toward Tim’s apartment, determination in his veins and a hard-on in his jeans. This is happening. _Something_ is happening tonight because he doesn’t think he’ll live if it doesn’t. 

At Tim’s door, he hesitates. Breathes and hesitates, and then knocks and it takes far too short of a period of time for Tim to answer and Damian thinks he was expecting him. He sees the way Tim’s face is giving him away, that he thinks something horribly wrong, like that Damian’s been trying to catch him in a trap or something equally as horrible. He doesn’t want that. _Never_ wants that, so instead he does the only thing he can think will prove his internal truth.

He steps into Tim’s home, slams the door behind him, and kisses Tim as hard as he can. This, he’s practiced. He knows he can’t fail on this one. Mission success had depended on it before and he knows he was good, Jason said so and Jason’s opinion in one Damian trusts. His target hadn’t complained either and well, Tim’s certainly not complaining either. No, Tim’s kissing him back like it’s the end of the world and Damian’s just told him they can save the human race if only they kiss, and it’s wonderful. It’s tongue and teeth and lips and delicious and god, it’s so good Damian almost doesn’t know how to handle it.

Tim presses him to the wall and Damian lets it happen, his hands fisted in Tim’s t-shirt and his hips grinding up against him, showing him how he aches for him and feeling Tim’s own erection pressing back. It’s hot and hard and they rock against one another with an urgency that Damian’s not seen with these other hookups Tim’s had. Not that he could watch the last one and not that he’d seen the sex with the first one, but… assumptions can be made and he’s making them all. 

He imagines taking Tim’s clothing off. Thinks about blowing him or sinking deep into him or any number of other things, but he can’t pull himself away from this. It’s overwhelming to be involved in it, to be actually doing something so physically intimate, and he can’t help himself at all. He can’t stop his hands from trying to pull Tim closer or his balls from drawing up tight or even how he’s about to blow his load right in his jeans and he just doesn’t care. It’ll be with Tim. It’ll be enough.

He gasps into Tim’s mouth and shudders hard as his prick throbs and then he’s cumming and he’s humping Tim in sheer desperation until he’s done and panting and Tim’s holding him up and his brain is foggy in an entirely different way. He tries to school himself, tells himself he has a responsibility to help Tim over this wonderful edge as well, but when he manages to engage his hand enough to drag it down between them, Tim catches his wrist and pulls his hand up, kissing it and breathing out a huff of a laugh. He listens to Tim tell him he hasn’t cum like that in years, that it was great and wonderful and he uses so many adjectives Damian’s head swims. 

They clean up and then they sit and talk over an ordered-in pizza and Damian sits close to him, tucked up under his arm and against his warm side and he never wants to leave. He’s a reasonable person, so he tells Tim this and he feels safe when Tim nuzzles in against his hair and tells him he feels the same.

It’s beautiful and he’s so happy something good came from the horrible ripped open feeling that was his jealousy. He files away all the data points and he feels pleasant, like a cloud instead of a balloon. He feels _right_.


End file.
